


Runaway, Lost, and Found

by CiaranthePage



Series: And So The Silver Sands Call [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (i know that sounds redundant but bare with me), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13382700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaranthePage/pseuds/CiaranthePage
Summary: "Angus realized he probably should have thought this through better when he fell down and scraped his knee from the exhaustion taking over his body."Angus hadn't meant to run away and get lost in the woods, but that's where he found himself. Likely abandoned by his family, he must learn to survive -- or find someone to take care of him, as eleven-year-olds aren't the best at taking care of themselves, even if theyareshapeshifters with magic powers. Luckily, there are people who want the same thing... he just has to find them, or let them find him.Sometimes help comes from the strangest of places.





	Runaway, Lost, and Found

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'd like to welcome you to a brand new AU, one I can promise you've never seen before!!  
> because this is all set in a universe i made up!  
> i'll go into more detail at the end, but thanks for checking me out and i hope you enjoy <3

Angus realized he probably should have thought this through better when he fell down and scraped his knee from the exhaustion taking over his body.

 

He curled up on the ground where he’d fallen, chest heaving. His backpack pressed up against his back, wedged between him and the tree he’d been attempting to run around. His mind starting playing back all the memories of the day to try and finally make sense of his actions.

 

It’d started when his cousins had come over a few weeks before, he decided. Their family was so much bigger than his; just the younger members had doubled the size of the  _nahvudan_ band. At the time it’d been okay, because the two around his age had canine-like natural forms like him, though they were a little rougher when they played; slowly, though, things started to feel off. The adults began to pour in, making Angus feel less and less safe among their band. He wasn’t even sure  _why_. They’d just… unsettled him. Taking over jobs and weaseling their way into power and displacing Angus’s mother as the band leader --

 

And then he ran. He remembered now, could pinpoint the moment he knew he didn’t want to stay there anymore. His father hadn’t returned home from making contact with some creatures in the woods, probably werewolves, for a few days. Angus had gone to the aunt (cousin?) who had taken over the band and asked to search for him. She’d turned him away, told him if he didn’t come back and give them news on peace or war they’d leave. The sneer she’d given him felt… cold. Even remembering it sent shivers down his spine.

 

Now that he was thinking about it, Angus had run off with the intentions of finding his father, but he’d just gotten lost. He took a shuddered breath, pulling his glasses off his face to check for cracks. He couldn’t get new ones on his own, after all, so he’d have to take good care of this pair.

 

That thought set him off. The glasses  _clinked_ onto the forest floor as tears started to roll down his cheeks, clogging up his nose and making him choke. Angus pushed himself up, curling into a ball and shaking like a leaf from the stinging pain in his leg and the slow realization that he’d never get back to his family. If they even _wanted_ him back -- every concern he’d brought up had been brushed aside, so what was stopping them from brushing him aside just as easily?

 

Angus fell asleep against the tree, exhaustion easily overcoming his eleven-year-old body. The sun woke him up, creeping into his eyes and forcing them open. He found his glasses (thankfully) on the ground beside him and his knee scabbed over. His joints felt as though they had stiffened into tree bark over night but nothing from his backpack was missing, so he was doing better than he could have been, considering he was a very small boy lost in a very big forest with no guardian to speak of. Unsure of what else to do, once he’d stabilized himself, Angus started walking.

 

He picked a direction that, judging by the blood smear leading to his place by the tree, was toward where he’d come from. Even if his band wouldn’t take him back, surely someone else would, right? Maybe even those other creatures his father had gone to talk to. If they were werewolves like everyone had been saying they’d gladly take him in, right? Werewolves liked children and were kind to lost ones?

 

Angus eventually let himself fall into his true form, finding even the natural process of holding a truly human form tiring. He’d been walking for hours on end and continuing on four feet sounded better than two; plus, his true form had an easier time carrying the backpack. Now looking like a hulking, rottweiler-like dog perched on the edge of the uncanny valley, he couldn’t deny he also felt a bit safer. He was small as far as _nahvudan_ went, both as a human and in his natural form, but rarely did people even approach him when he wandered in this form; his fangs and growl scared them without much effort.

 

He wandered for days, scavenging what he could from the forest around him and what he could summon with his limited magical ability. By the third day, it sunk in just  _how_ lost he was and his efforts to do any sort of finding -- of help, his father, or otherwise -- began to deteriorate. He started to simply pick a direction to go in the mornings instead of mark where he had been heading the day before, started caring less about making sure he didn’t backtrack and end up at the same tree four times, lost track of any sense of direction in the forest. He was tired and had anyone seen him, they could see it plainly written on even his more beastly faces.

 

Perhaps it was the nature of the forest, perhaps the nature of a scared eleven year old learning to cope with his surroundings, it didn’t really matter; the only thing that mattered was that by the middle of his second week he’d begun to lose his will to even wander. He sat for longer, slept for longer, studied his unfinished spellbook and made up new spells instead of practicing the ones that were helping him survive. His movements were at night, when there was no warm sun to coax him into a nap in the shadow of a tree.

 

Fall crept up on him by his third week.

 

He was cold more often, even in his natural form. He kept a fire spell going all night, unintentionally draining his energy by constantly hiding and unhiding the flames whenever he thought someone or something was coming. The cold’s bite was enough to make him wish he’d just stayed on his path from the beginning, or never run away at all. Angus started to wonder whether he’d die in the woods, lost and unknown to all.

 

The fifth week rolled around. Angus had taken up his old habit of picking a direction and following it, though his methods of keeping track were loose and a few times he would wander from his chosen path to look at some strange phenomenon, like the countless moon flowers that dotted certain areas or the pixie songs that echoed from trees when he got distracted. By the end of the fifth week, he was sure he was nearing the edge of the forest by now; it wasn’t _that_ big, was it?

 

He didn’t cross the edge.

 

Instead, he stumbled across a camp nestled in the corner of the woods; two tents filled by three researchers and their equipment (well, he assumed they were researchers; they dressed a lot like the people Angus had seen back in the town but used lots of academic words). Angus heard other people’s voices for the first time since he’d ran and jumped into their camp without thinking, tripping over a discarded log as he went. He’d adopted his human form when he saw the camp, thankfully, and avoided burning his back on the fire. Two of the researchers jumped to their feet, helping him up and asking him a bunch of questions he realized he couldn’t quite answer, having never fully picked up the language of the region.

 

“I. Am… lost,” Angus sounded out. He put a hand on his chest, saying, “I’m Angus.”

 

One of the researchers gasped and said something in concern. Angus stared at them helplessly, losing his grasp on his small vocabulary in the frenzy of their speech. They turned to the oldest looking of the researchers (a gnome, guessing by his height and ears), asking him a question. Angus realized while trying to discern what they were saying that they had the galaxy eyes of a changeling; he’d never seen a pair up close before, but he’d read enough about changelings to recognize their eyes. _Interesting_ , he thought.

 

The oldest researcher turned to look at Angus, eyes lingering for a second on his rune and note covered hands, the survival spells in white ink standing out the most prominently against the dark brown of his hands. The researcher couldn’t read them, as far as Angus knew, but he seemed to recognize their origin if nothing else; the runes Angus knew were unique to his culture, after all. His hands darted into his pockets as Angus took a step back. “ _Please don’t stare_ ,” he said, despite the fact that the researcher wouldn’t understand him.

 

The oldest researcher nodded, seeming to understand. “Captain,” he said, putting a hand on his chest. Angus’s eyes darted around but he simply nodded, hoping that was an introduction and not a command or something he was supposed to answer.

 

Captain turned to the camp’s other two occupants, asking them a few questions. The pale _chiyoni_ sitting on the other side of the fire from Angus -- identified as “Jane” by Captain -- suggested something about Angus in particular, a grin on her face and her pastel pink wings fluttering in amusement. The changeling rolled their eyes even as they chuckled, and Captain just looked tired. Angus still didn’t know what they were talking about, but they weren’t running him out of their camp, so that was something.

 

Angus sat at the edge of camp, pulling out one of the translated books he’d left in his backpack before running away and munching on handfuls of the plants he’d scavenged. The researcher’s conversation steered away from him and to whatever they were looking for (or, at least, they were pulling out maps and diagrams and pointing at them as they spoke). He could pick out words as they spoke, things about magic and directions. They said “East” a lot, he knew that much. Perhaps one of the academies he’d heard so much about back in the village? They’d have reasons to send out teams of researchers, right?

 

Captain put a hand on Angus’s shoulders as Jane stomped out the fire, motioning towards the tents. “A place to sleep?” he offered.

 

Angus thought for a moment. He shut his book, nodding. It would be nice to sleep on not-the-forest-floor for once.

 

He stayed with the researchers for a week and a half, following them on their journey around the forest and helping when he could. He learned the changeling’s name was Song and that they and Jane were students of Captain’s, indeed from the Eastern Academy. All three of them helped to expand his vocabulary enough so he could grasp the main topic of the conversations they were having around camp. A few times, he went to ask him why they had taken him along, only getting the answer “you were lost.”

 

He didn’t know why he kept asking. Perhaps it was his book -- _Caleb Cleveland_ , a book about a kid cop his mother had had translated for him -- that was setting him on edge. More than a few times his mind would flicker to the slow usurp of his family’s power from under their noses, the subtle kind of betrayal no one saw coming. Or the fact that all three of the researchers at one point or another asked to examine the runes and letters on his hands, asking what they meant or did (at least, before they realized he didn’t have the words to explain).

 

An overheard conversation provided him with the answer to this question.

 

It was the dead of night. Angus jolted awake in his natural form, his nightmares lingering in the back of his mind. A spot on his side felt sore, as if he’d caught some fur on something and had it pulled off. He shifted to his human form, rubbing the nightmare out of his eyes before putting on his glasses. There was no one in the tent -- he could’ve sworn Jane had fallen asleep in here shortly before he did -- but there was a conversation going on outside. He shifted to leave the tent and join it; he halted in his steps when he caught his own name. Where they talking about him? He sat back down, straining to pick out words he knew.

 

“Kid’s… a fortune. The reagents we could…” That was Jane, her hands on her hips. “...the knowledge.” There was something in her hands, something dark and fuzzy.

 

Captain glared at her, straining his neck to look up at her. “No, we can’t just...his trust, Jane.”

 

“Perhaps if we don’t _sell_ the...?” Song added. They kept talking after that, but Angus scrambled backward too fast to hear it.

 

Gods, no. They couldn’t be serious. They wouldn’t use him for reagents, would they? They’d been so nice to him! They’d taken him in and fed him and were teaching him the common language and… Maybe it was just Jane, he thought as he watched them talk through ragged breaths. Captain seemed to be defending him. He kept pointing toward the tent where Angus was, eyebrows pinched together and ears flicking in annoyance as he spoke. Was a two out of three majority enough to risk staying? Wait, no, Song always made compromises, so they couldn’t be trusted. One out of three… sure, Captain was in charge, but by now Angus had guessed that Jane wasn’t exactly overflowing with respect for authority.

 

Angus didn’t see any other choice. He pulled the hoodie Song had given him over his pajamas and tugged on his shoes. A double check of his backpack, a deep breath, and he was out the back of the tent, bounding off into the woods in the direction immediately opposite of the camp and away from where they’d been planning to go next.

 

He was running away again.

 

The thought sounded like someone else had said it, someone other than the usual voice inside his head, but he paid it little mind. A small agreement -- _yes, I am_ \-- and then his focus was on casting the spell on the back of his left hand. “ _K-kat qozs, kat qozs, kat qozs,_ ” he whispered. _Hide self, hide self, hide self_.

 

The spell took hold on his third try. Faint blue light enveloped him, sealing him off from any prying eyes or listening ears. He could only keep up the spell so long, he knew, but hopefully, it’d give him enough time to get away.

 

It flickered and dissipated after he’d been running for nearly ten minutes. His steps began to falter; he was tired, he hadn’t gotten enough sleep before running, and now with the magic consumption… he wanted to sit down. Angus stumbled to a tree with a space under the roots big enough to stash his backpack in and plopped down. He hid his backpack and curled up in front of the hole, burying his arms in the too-long sleeves of his hoodie.

 

He thought he fell asleep against the tree, but something felt… off. He lifted his head, finding himself not in the forest but in an ocean of stars, the air clinging to his skin like water without soaking his hair or clothes. A hand rested on his head, scaring him and making him jump back and to his feet, the words for a spell on his lips and his hands outstretched. The spell felt scrambled as it came out of his mouth, bubbles that looked like tiny moons floating up and out of sight. The figure who’d touched him was lounging against the tree, chuckling.

 

“Your magic isn’t going to work here, Angus,” the figure said, in what Angus realized was perfect  _lojpaj_ , the language of _nahvudan_. “Sit.”

 

The figure’s hood fell back as if pushed by a breeze, revealing a man with silver-streaked black hair and skin nearly the same dark shade as Angus’s, save for the splattering of glowing pink freckles across his nose. Angus didn’t sit back down, but he did lower his hands. “Who… who are you?” Angus asked. “And how do you know my name?”

 

“Gods are privy to plenty of knowledge,” the figure said. “You may have heard me referred to as Night, should you have encountered my followers. That is what you may call me, as well.”

 

Angus didn’t say anything, trying to process this information. He was… face to face with a god. An actual god. One of the children of Moon. A god he hadn’t even known existed until four months ago. “Why did you bring me here?” Angus demanded.

 

Night stood, accepting that Angus wasn’t going to sit with him. His cloak fluttered in a wind Angus still couldn’t feel, revealing that the underside was the night sky. Angus wasn’t sure how he knew that (perhaps the way the fabric fluttered but the stars stayed in place?) but he felt sure of himself. Night motioned for Angus to follow and started walking, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. This, Angus could do; he fell into step with Night, stuffing his hands into the pocket on the front of his hoodie. “I’ve taken an interest in you, Angus,” Night said. “I am often called upon as a guardian as those who run away from --”

 

“I’ve never asked for help,” Angus said, frowning. “Not from a god.”

 

Night laughed. “I know, Angus. But you are residing in one of my mother’s forests, and you have had your fair share of attempts to run away. I don’t blame you, of course.”

 

He waved a hand, pulling an image out of the “water” around them and shaping it into an orb. It was Angus, or at least his sleeping body. A wolf was sniffing it, nudging him. It bounded away when a small star appeared above Angus’s head, sparkling and casting light all around him. “The star will guide you to help I think you’ll appreciate more than my own,” Night explained, handing the orb to Angus. “Adelaide is her name, should you want to speak to her.”

 

“...The stars have names that you can say?” Angus asked, confused.

 

“Some,” Night said. “Not all of them.”

 

Angus held the orb in his hands, thinking. “What do you want in return?” he asked, looking up at Night.

 

A big smile broke across Night’s face. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Night ruffled Angus’s tight curls. “Not much. You’re holding onto your old life, and Adelaide cannot properly guide you unless you give it up. She’ll show you how to build a shrine to do so.”

 

“I know how to build a shrine. My grandfather showed me.”

 

“Ah, but not one of my shrines. Each face of a god needs a different kind, after all, and besides, your shrines are built for spirits.”

 

Angus pouted; he couldn’t argue with that. It felt strange, promising to build a shrine for a god he had never prayed to. A flicker of fear that the spirits of his home would be angry at him, but he tossed that thought aside. They didn’t anger that easily; they probably knew of the gods outside of their domain and would understand. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll do it.”

 

“Then have a peaceful night, Angus.”

 

Night took the orb as Angus’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backward. His spirit disappeared before it hit the ground.

 

Angus woke up to the fading moonlight creeping through the trees, just enough to warn him of the oncoming sunrise. He was bathed in a soft golden light, just as he’d seen in the orb; his eyes flickered upwards to its source. Above Angus floated a tiny, humanoid figure, whose short fluff of hair hardly topped the five-inch mark. She floated down, landing on his knee. She looked like an elf if elves had five glowing eyes and gave off a golden light. “You’re Angus, right?” she asked; her voice sounded like a tiny bell, and Angus felt her meaning more than heard it.

 

“Y-yes. Are you… Adelaide?” he replied.

 

Adelaide clapped her hands, thrilled by this answer and sending tiny sparkles of light showering onto his leg. “Yes, exactly! If you know my name, that means you met with Lord Night in your dreams, which means we can get started!”

 

She jumped into the air again, pointing behind him into the roots of the tree. “Get your backpack out,” she said. “We’ll need to find a better location than this old thing. Maybe a dryad tree or something.”

 

“Why is this tree unsuitable? Won’t the ‘dryads’ be upset?” Angus asked. He dug his backpack out nonetheless, swinging it over his shoulders.

 

“Nah, they’re cool. This is one of Moon’s forests, I’m sure they get shrines under their trees all the time.”

 

Adelaide settled into his hair, crossing her arms. “Well, go on,” she said.

 

Angus didn’t know where any dryad trees would reside. He had no way of knowing. By the way Adelaide spoke, he could assume not all trees had tangible, forming spirits like he was used to. His earliest memories of home were the spirits coming out of the trees to peer down at the new member of his band (Angus himself, at the time). Though, now that he was thinking about it, he hadn’t seen any spirits at all in this forest. She wasn’t lying, at least.

 

(Could stars lie?)

 

He picked a random direction as he had so many times before, and walked. Adelaide gave him no guidance, going as far as to slip into his hood and fall asleep. He thought about digging out his spellbook and figuring out a spell to locate them, realizing a few moments later that he’d have to dislodge Adelaide in order to do so. She probably wouldn’t be too happy about that.

 

“Oh!” Angus cried, stopping in his tracks, a memory bubbling to the surface of his mind.

 

His footsteps resumed as he began to circle around the large tree he’d slept under, whistling an old lullaby. His grandfather had taught Angus the lullaby, long before they moved, and told him it was a sure fire way to attract spirits. He’d forgotten the words over the years, but the melody was the only thing he needed anyway if he was remembering right.

 

Sure enough, it worked.

 

A return whistle of the lullaby sounded from somewhere behind them. Angus turned, and as he started towards the tree it came from, a second whistle joined in. Adelaide sat up, yawning. “Find one?” she asked. She tilted her head, listening. “Find… two?”

 

Angus’s whistles faded as he found the tree where the returns were echoing from. Two dryads lounged in the winter-bare branches of the cherry blossom tree, whistling the tune back and forth to each other. One was tall and thin with a waterfall of petal hair falling down her back and wing-like curtains hanging from her arm; the other was shorter, with a fuller figure that radiated strength and a layer of petals on her head that almost looked like a pixie cut framing two curling ram’s horns. The tall one looked down at Angus, her solid, raven-feather eyes curling up in amusement. “Was that you?” she asked; he wasn’t sure how he understood her, but if it made this easier, he’d suppress his instinct to find out.

 

Angus nodded. She looked at the shorter dryad, saying, “Hurley, he’s got a star in his hood,” in a mock-whisper.

 

“I see that Sloane,” her companion responded; Hurley, apparently. “Means he probably needs something.”

 

“Oh, but _what_?” Sloane said.

 

“You could just ask him, dummy.”

 

Sloane threw her arm over her head, preparing to launch into theatrics, but Hurley put a hand over her mouth, giggling. She turned her own, swamp green eyes to Angus, shrugging one shoulder. “She’s overdramatic sometimes,” she explained. “What do you need, kid? Not everyone knows a spirit song.”

 

“We need to build a shrine under your tree,” Adelaide responded for Angus, floating back onto his head. “Just a little one. A runaway, you know how it goes.”

 

Sloane’s arm lowered as Hurley’s fell away from her mouth. They looked at each other and spoke through some unseen connection, sliding together so they were touching. “Yeah, no problem,” Sloane said, draping her arms over Hurley’s shoulders. “We’re not doing much else, really.”

 

Adelaide hopped off of his head, hovering in the air. “Thanks, uh, Sloane and Hurley?”

 

“That’s us,” Hurley said.

 

Adelaide shrugged, turning to Angus. “I’ll go get the supplies, you start digging through your backpack. Pull out… everything, I guess,” she said. “We’ll go over what you can keep when I get back.”

 

Angus watched her fly off. He turned to the dryads once she was out of sight, waving at them and pretending he wasn’t shaking. He understood them, sure, but would they understand him? “...Hello,” he said.

 

“He spoke!” Sloane cried, throwing up her arms. “Finally, I was starting to think he could only whistle.”

 

Hurley elbowed her, though the sound it made was a weak one. Sloane faked a sound of pain, settling her arms back around Hurley’s shoulders. To Angus, Hurley replied, “Hello to you.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sloane said, waving one hand.

 

Angus’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses. They could understand him! He swallowed, sitting on the ground and composing himself as he swung off his backpack. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well. I’m. I’m Angus,” he said.

 

He started to pull everything out like Adelaide had instructed, laying it all in neat piles around him: his two changes of clothes, the stack of translated novels that were in his backpack when he ran, a handful of jewelry he’d picked up from his cousins, his food and water bottle, and his spellbook. His spellbook he subconsciously placed just a tad closer to himself, as if protecting it. Sloane and Hurley watched him as he moved, mumbling to each other about one thing or the other. When he tugged off the hoodie Song had given him, assuming that it was part of his “old life” that Night mentioned, he tossed it at the base of the tree, unsure of where else to put it.

 

Which was… sort of a bad idea, as he started to shiver. The wind had not become any less aggressive during his walk through the woods. If anything, as winter drew near, it had gotten stronger. He felt frozen to his spot, especially as he watched Sloane bend down and pick up the sweater. “It’s your size, Hurls,” she said, showing it to the other. Hurley hummed, rolling the fabric through her hands.

 

Angus shifted into his natural form while they looked at the sweater, hoping the fur would keep out the chill while still allowing him the use of his hands. The shivering slowed to a stop. That was… progress, though he still felt frozen to his spot among his possessions. He counted them over and over to pass the time while he waited for Adelaide, who still hadn’t made a reappearance.

 

He was about to set his least favorite book on fire when a familiar bell-sound rang out behind him. “Gods! You would _not_ believe how long it takes to get a damn mirror off a moon spirit!”

 

Adelaide floated in front of him, holding a mirror as implied; it was carved from a block of marble, if Angus had to guess, set with sapphires and a sheet of glass that shined like a clear pond. She set it at the base of the tree so it could catch the light of the setting moon, sending it tumbling into the branches of the cherry blossom tree. Sloane and Hurley, both lying in the branches with the latter in her new sweater on top of the former, shifted to sit upwards, eyes reflecting the light. “You weren’t kidding,” Sloane whispered.

 

Angus swallowed, daring to shift back into his humanoid form. The air that the moonlight touched was pleasantly warm, and enough fell over him to keep him from shivering, though he still regretted giving up the sweater. Adelaide brushed off her hands, putting her hands on her hips and grinning like she was going to win an award. “Now we can get started! Whadya bring, Angus?”

 

She floated above his possessions, taking inventory of them all on a tally mark board she drew in the air. Once satisfied, she turned back to Angus. “Ready? You have to follow my instructions _exactly_ , or it won’t work and we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

 

What else could he do but agree? Angus didn’t speak as Adelaide directed him as to where he should put certain objects. Sloane and Hurley (mostly Sloane) leaned down to help him when he couldn’t reach high enough, tying his clothes up on the tree in a strange, eerie wreath. Once finished, the entire thing resembled… well, a shrine. The mirror was set up in a place of honor atop Angus’s three _Caleb Cleveland_ novels, above which hung the wreath of clothes glimmering in the moonlight with the jewelry. The only things left out were his backpack and, more importantly, his spellbook; Angus hadn't asked why she didn't mention it, but he did say a quick thank you to whoever was listening. He kneeled in front of the shrine, putting his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. Adelaide drifted up to sit in the wreath, batting at a charm from one of the necklaces. “One last step,” she said. “This part’s all you, kid. Think _real_ hard about what kind of guardian you need. Or want, I don’t care. Ask the gods to tell me where this person is, until you get…” she waved her hand, flopping back against the wreath as though it were a hammock. “A sign.”

 

Sloane and Hurley’s gazes turned to Angus, who felt all nine eyes in the area upon his back like points of fire. He tried to follow the instructions, thinking about what manner of person he could trust to take care of him. He flipped through his mental catalogue of all the people who ever taken care of him, categorizing them, trying to decide who would best take care of him in this vital time of need. His parents, his grandfather, his aunts and uncles, Captain and his students, the… the spirits. The spirits of his homeland! They took care of everyone. He could even remember one specifically using their power over the grasslands Angus’s band had been farming at the time to guide a lost child home.

 

_The spirits_ , he thought. _Give me the protection of a benevolent spirit. They won’t disappear or die or try to hurt me for profit. Show her where I can find one._

 

He repeated himself several times, eyes shut tight. He heard Adelaide mumbling into the wind and waited for a sign. He didn't know what it would be, but he was a smart kid, he could figure it out, right? Over and over he begged Night, though not by name, for a sign that he was listening to Angus’s cries..

 

A tap on his shoulder. Angus’s eyes shot open as he turned to see who had touched him, but no one was there. He turned to Adelaide, opening his mouth then closing it. She'd tell him if she knew where to go. She was floating in the air in front of a now shrine-less tree and holding the mirror. Sloane and Hurley were shooting each other looks, communicating through what Angus assumed to be their connection to their tree. “Interesting choice,” Adelaide mused. “Lets me kill two birds with one stone, though. C'mon Angus.”

 

Angus stood, stuffing his spellbook in his otherwise empty backpack. “Goodbye, Hurley and Sloane!” he said with a wave.

 

“Try and visit sometime!” Sloane called after him as he ran to catch up to Adelaide. “We're not hard to find!”

 

The tingling silence of a cold sunrise hung in the air. Adelaide stashed the mirror in his backpack, promising it wouldn't draw attention to him. She said nothing else as they walked through the trees, around bends and through places between plants Angus wouldn’t have thought to go. Angus tried to ask her where they were going a few times, but she kept shushing him. “Focus,” she hissed. “Just follow me.”

 

He matched her silence. Even in the growing sunlight, the walk felt less like a simple trip through the woods and more like getting lost in a labyrinth ruled over by some cruel goblin king. Deep in his heart, Angus began to doubt the power guiding Adelaide. Shouldn’t they have found someone by now? She’d gotten the mirror in the ritual from them, if he’d interpreted her words correctly. Surely someone wouldn’t wander off without something as precious as that mirror! Even a spirit, who normally had no need for personal possessions, would not be so foolish!

 

Angus huffed, shifting to his natural form to block out the chill. Adelaide glanced back at him and started drifting a bit faster, taking routes up and down trees Angus could now follow her through. The sun was almost fully risen before Adelaide spoke again.

 

“We’re close,” she said. “I think you’ll like her. She’s pretty nice.”

 

Angus tilted his head, trotting below Adelaide now instead of behind her. Adelaide rolled her eyes, sighing. “I know the spirit we’re going to. She’s. Pretty cool, as far as aloof moon spirits go. You had a bunch of books in your backpack, I bet you two’ll get along”

 

“Oh,” Angus replied. “Does she have a lot of books?”

 

“She writes ‘em. A historian of sorts.”

 

That was something Angus could get excited about. He still struggled with the common language of the region, let alone any specific ones, but he’d been able to communicate with Hurley and Sloane well enough that he was hopeful about this new spirit’s ability to teach him to read -- and possibly even speak -- the languages of the region. A new spring made its way into his step and made his tail wag.

 

The sun was shining through the canopy by the time they broke through the tree line into a clearing so full of bookshelves Angus could see only a portion of it. “We're here,” Adelaide said. “Gimme the mirror back.”

 

Angus shifted back to his human form and swung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbing the mirror and handing it to her. Adelaide took it with only a little difficulty. “Lucretia!” she shouted. “I know you're here! Come out for a sec!”

 

_Lucretia. That must be the spirit's name_ , Angus mused, looking around.

 

Footsteps crunched the frozen grass as a figure rounded the corner of bookshelf into view. She was tall with curly white hair cut close to her scalp, and if Angus wasn't imagining things, her hair cast a pale glow over her ebony skin that almost, almost drew attention away from the twin gray stars that served her as eyes. Her robe was patterned like the clearest night sky, the full moon printed over her heart.

 

“You're back,” Lucretia said, equal parts surprised and irritated. She held out a hand for the mirror as she continued. “That's an important artifact, not some toy you can --”

 

Angus felt her gaze fall on him, the faintest pressure pinching the top of his spine. “...hello,” she said.

 

“Hello, ma'am,” Angus replied, giving her a lopsided smile.

 

Lucretia looked back to Adelaide, releasing the pressure on Angus. “I take it he's why you needed the mirror?” she asked.

 

“Yep! Considering I was guided to you, I'm assuming you said yes?”

 

Lucretia didn’t say a word, raising her eyebrows. Angus looked between her and Adelaide, not wanting to break the silence himself.

 

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” Adelaide finally sighed. “Take your mirror back.”

 

Lucretia took the mirror in her hand and, in a flash of light, it was gone. She looked more at ease, leaning one shoulder against the bookshelf. Adelaide turned to Angus, leaning down to make eye contact with him. “Here’s where I say goodbye, kid,” she said. “Nice meetin’ you; have fun with Lucretia.”

 

She waved and winked out of sight. Angus looked up at Lucretia, who was looking at him with a much more relaxed expression, her gaze no longer putting a magic pressure on his spine. “Your name is Angus, correct?” she asked.

 

“Yes, um, Ms. Lucretia,” Angus said, shifting his empty backpack. He was starting to shiver again, he realized.

 

Lucretia seemed to notice; she leaned down and picked him up, hoisting him off the ground and turning to round back around the bookshelf. “My Lady told me you’d be coming,” she said, weaving through the maze of bookshelves. “I wasn’t sure what clothes you would like, so you’ll have to find what you want from the boxes I have.”

 

Angus clung to Lucretia as she walked and nodded to show he was listening. She carried him with an ease he didn’t normally see in people picking up eleven-year-old children, setting him on her hip and drifting through the dying grass with practiced ease. She probably knew the layout by heart, he realized. He tried to pay attention to where they were going and make a map in his head, but he was already starting to nod off again now that the search was over. Lucretia kept talking, and Angus tried his best to respond, but soon he found himself falling asleep in her arms, leaning against her head with his arms around her neck.

 

He woke up in the middle of the day, judging by the amount of sun in his eyes. Angus pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes. He was still in his clothes from the night before, on a bed tucked under a tree with a large blanket, his glasses in his lap. He slipped them on to look around further, taking in his surroundings.

 

There was snow on the ground, though only a light dusting, that seemed to avoid a large circle around his new bed. A cluster of boxes was pushed against the bookshelf near the footboard of his bed, labeled with various types of clothes. The “room” formed by the tree and the bookshelves was small and the entire space was comfortably warm. He remembered the night he had just had, and whispered a quick thank you to the spirits for their help, and one to Night as an afterthought.

 

He climbed out of bed and searched the boxes of clothes until he found an outfit he liked. It was perhaps a bit fancy for an eleven-year-old lost in the woods who had just been taken in by a moon spirit but he liked fancy. It made him feel more official even when he pulled on a hoodie (this time, one that fit him). He dug his spellbook out of his backpack, dangling on the bed itself, and slid it into his pocket before leaving the circle of what he assumed was some sort of shielding spell.

 

Humming and cold greeted him once he left the bubble. He dug deeper into his hoodie, the temperature shock hitting harder than expected, and followed the humming to Lucretia.

 

She was sorting books, pulling down some and putting back others she had floating on some sort of invisible disk next to her. She turned when Angus approached her, smiling. “You’re awake,” she said. “My Lady told me you had an interest in learning the language of this region, so I’ve been… attempting to find materials to teach you.”

 

Angus giggled, walking over to her and peeking at the books in her arms. They all looked like children’s books, but that was where language started, wasn’t it?

 

He was going to be safe here. Perhaps running away hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> and here we are at the promised more details!  
> this is angus's (and a little bit of lucretia's) backstory for the larger au this takes place in! i'll be posting each character's backstory as i write them and i hope you enjoyed enough to stick around for/read the rest! this project/au is my dearest baby and i want to share with the fandom my passion for it
> 
> if you have any questions about the universe, don't be afraid to ask! either here in the comments, on tumblr @ thegempage, or on twitter @achillopal. you can also just come chat or let me know that you liked my story! thanks for reading!!


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